That Kind of Love
by Bedroom Dancing
Summary: A morning after oneshot about the struggles and deceptions of finding the kind of love you're looking for.


That Kind of Love

The sun streaked through tattered blue curtains, drawn halfway, and left strips of light on the dirty, hardwood floors. The noisy city clamor from below was muted by the elevation of the apartment, so only a faint hum of commuters on their way and the shouts of liberals and hot dog vendors reached the girl's ears.

She roused, wiggling her toes and sleepishly blinking tired, bloodshot eyes.

The man next to her grunted in his sleep, rolling over so he was facing the wall, the comforter wrapped around his naked form. She fondly glanced over his muscular back, his strong muscles flexing ever so slightly as he breathed, shaking life into the tattoos that spanned his body.

The young girl had petite curves and soft skin that seemed to shimmer in the dim light. Her doll like features gave her a look of innocence and righteousness. A yawn escaped her soft, full lips as she grabbed a bed sheet, covering her own body as she slowly stood, tumbling right back down onto the floor below.

The night before had left her head pounding and her eyes dry, and with every move she made the discomfort and sickness increased. Every muscle in her body from her head to her toes seemed tight and cramped, not fit to be used.After a few seconds of heavy breathing and blacking out, the room stopped spinning and she stood again.

The floorboards of the gaudy, dank room groaned in protest as her bare feet traipsed across the room, and she shivered from the cold draft. The girl bent over one of the ratty wooden dressers, wiping off a spot on the dirty mirror so she could see her reflection. She began dabbing the corners of her eyes to try and rectify the smudged black makeup. Hands shaking, she felt across the surface of the dresser, knocking aside bottles of pills and alcohol in her search.

Crouched down on the floor, she peeked underneath the furniture, and pulled out a small backpack. She absentmindedly rummaged though it for a few brief moments, and the restless man rolled over and grunted again, deep in slumber.

"Hello? Mac?" the young girl spoke quietly into the small Mcomm she had unearthed.

"Oh. Hey, Kaori," Mac's voice projected through the speaker. "Where are you? We're racing soon."

She cleared her sore throat. "Tell Atomica I can't come today."

"Why not? And where are you?" concern fleeted through Mac's words, though it was apparent he was trying to hide it.

"Just do this for me," Kaori said, voice quavering slightly. "I'll see you tonight."

"Okay."

"Thanks," she whispered before snapping the M-comm shut. The man on the bed stirred, sitting up and looking around the room. Using the dresser as a support, Kaori shuffled to her feet.

"Good morning, Psy," the girl genuinely smiled.

Psymon grunted inaudibly and hoisted himself out of the bed, heading for the bathroom clad in blue bedding.

"So what are we going to do today?" Kaori scampered across the rotting wooden floor to be by his side, almost losing her unsteady footing as she went.

"I'm taking a shower and getting back to snowboarding," Psymon didn't even look at Kaori.

Her grin faltered. "I.. I thought you and me could just-"

"-No," Psymon's cold voice sliced through Kaori's words. "You and me," he said mockingly, cold grey eyes boring into her, "can't. and won't. I have shit to do today, make sure you're the fuck outta here by the time I'm done." He turned to the bathroom.

She protested, grabbing gold of his forearm. "But-"

"But nothing. You don't get it do you?" Psymon leaned against the wall, muscles flexing as he folded arms across chest. Kaori didn't reply.

"This is a no strings attached deal, Kaori." His voice had softened considerably, seeing the pain in her eyes.

"You said you loved me," she replied tonelessly and carefully, peering up nervously at him as if he was a cobra, poised and ready to strike again.

To her surprise, he burst out into hysterical laughter. "Oh, youth," he continued to chuckle amusedly, entering the bathroom and slamming the door shut.

Kaori gaped at his exit in a manner much resembling a fish. She slowly circled the tawdry room, collecting her various articles of clothing and her personal belongings. Once she had picked up all the pieces, she sat in front of the vanity to put them back together.

Fully clothed again and spreading on lip gloss here, a touch of blush there, or a hint of mascara, Kaori made herself as presentable as she could manage in the time it would take Psymon to shower. She popped in a couple of advils from a small container in the clutter covering the desktop, slipped feet into small pumps, and was on her way. She left, poised and ready to try again to find that kind of love she seeked so passionately. 


End file.
